Page 53 of Knox
“Yeah, right. You can’t resist me.” He winked and then ran up the stairs before I could respond.
By the eighth, Ritchson was still throwing strong, but the Astros managed to score on a bloop and a sac fly. The score remained close, and we just needed a good knock to tie it or even pull us ahead if we got a runner into scoring position.
I led off the bottom of the inning and managed to hit a single.
As Knox headed to the plate, I took my lead and watched the pitcher. Instead of pitching to Knox, he snapped it to first base. I dove back to the bag, my hand outstretched for the corner, but my wrist bent under me wrong, and pain tore up my arm so fast I saw stars.
For a second, it felt like the whole stadium dropped out from under me. I couldn’t breathe right, couldn’t get air into my lungs. All I could do was roll onto my back, pulling my throwing hand in close and squeezing it to my ribs like somehow that would keep it from falling clean off.
I tried to move my fingers, but the pain was too intense. A few seconds later, I heard my name, but I didn’t open my eyes.
“Stratton. Look at me.”
I pried my eyes open and found Parker crouched above me. The trainer was next to him, and he was already reaching for my wrist.
“What happened?” Parker asked.
“My hand,” I managed. “Bent it back. It’s not right.”
“Did you feel a pop?” Reynolds, the trainer, asked, thumb pressing lightly at the joint.
I flinched hard and he let go. “No. Just … it fucking hurts.”
The crowd was dead quiet as Reynolds eased my batting glove off and turned my hand so he could see the swelling already building across the back of it. My stomach rolled.
“We need to get it X-rayed,” he told me.
“Yeah,” Parker agreed. “Come on. Let’s get you checked out.”
I didn’t want to move, didn’t want to make it any more obvious how bad it was, didn’t want to think about Grady in the stands watching me, and I certainly didn’t want to consider what it would mean if they found something that would take more than healing on its own overnight.
Reynolds slid an arm under my good side and helped me sit up. My wrist pulsed hot, as if the bones weren’t lined up how they were supposed to be. The crowd started clapping like they always did when a guy got back to his feet, even if they all probably knew I was headed straight for an X-ray.
Parker stayed with me, hand on my shoulder, steadying me when it felt like my balance wouldn’t come back. I glanced toward the dugout, found all the guys up on the top step watching, then looked toward Knox only a few feet away.
“Is it bad?” he asked.
I gave the slightest nod and walked off the field. I didn’t try to find Grady or Mallory. I just kept my eyes forward, letting Reynolds lead me down the steps into the dugout and hoping it wouldn’t turn out to be as bad as it already felt.
21
Knox
I stepped backinto the batter’s box, my heart pounding louder than the crowd had been all night. My eyes were locked on the pitcher, but my brain was stuck on the image of Crew at first base with Parker and Reynolds surrounding him.
Every part of me had wanted to follow him off the field, but I knew how that would look. While we’d received a lot of support for our relationship, that didn’t mean I hadn’t heard the rumblings of those who had a problem with us. Some sports shows had even aired segments wondering if teammates dating would be a distraction. If I bailed on the game, I’d be giving them even more to talk about.
The first pitch was a fastball right down the middle, and I didn’t swing. I couldn’t. My grip felt wrong, like my bat was too heavy in my hands. The opposing team likely knew my head wasn’t where it should be, but I refused to let them take advantage of the situation, so I tightened my grip and exhaled slowly.
The next pitch was a slider that broke late, and I managed to foul it off. My timing was still off, but at least I’d caught a piece of the ball.
Get it together.
I stepped out of the box again, adjusted my gloves, and glanced toward the seats where Grady, Mallory, and Archer usually sat. They weren’t there, and I wondered if they’d left the stadium or just gone somewhere to keep Grady distracted.
I got into position again and swung at the next pitch. I drove it hard but right at the second baseman for an easy out.
We were still down by only one going into the ninth, but with Crew gone, it seemed as though the whole team was struggling.
